


Haunted by the Past

by kiloLeader



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Future Fic, Gen, Hearing Voices, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6443506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiloLeader/pseuds/kiloLeader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Red Leader, otherwise known as Tord, is depressed and has begun hearing the voice of someone he once knew drag him down. Paul and Patryk seek this man in hopes of helping.</p><p>[Set in the future, Red Leader/Tord has conquered the whole planet.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Knock knock. "Sir, are you there?"

A large wooden door separated Patryk and his boss Tord, more commonly known as the Red Leader. The door was locked and had been so since early that morning when Tord arrived. It was common for him to lock himself in for hours at a time -- it _was_  his personal office after all -- but he would usually take a break for a while, if only to get something to eat. The past couple days deviated from the norm, and this worried his assistants.

"I brought you breakfast." Patryk knocked again with the hand that wasn't carrying the stack of pancakes he cooked. He waited for a response, but there was none.

Paul put his arm around his partner's shoulders. "Did you really think he would answer?"

"No, but... maybe he didn't hear me!"

"You say that every day." Paul sighed. "We can't interrupt him like this. He's probably busy. You know how it is."

"I'm still worried." Patryk leaned his head on Paul's shoulder. "I haven't seen him work on his paperwork all week. I only hear him yelling for hours."

"He's probably on the phone."

The two let go of each other as soon as they heard the doorknob rumbling. They stood at a messy, rushed attention, with Paul rocking back and forth and Patryk dropping his pancakes. They covered the floor all around. Tord watched all of this from just a slit of the door open, enough to see his face but nothing more. It was apparent that the Red Leader wasn't doing so swell. Part of it was the general stress of the job -- his greying hair made him look much older than he actually was. At the same time, it was obvious from his pale face and darkness surrounding his eyes that showed he was likely sleep-deprived. He didn't even bother to wear something formal like his job entailed; he dressed as if he lived in his office. Maybe he did.

Paul and Patryks' stomaches turned. They weren't used to seeing their boss in such a terrible condition. The dead stare he gave them made their worry and fear even worse. "W-we were just checking in to see if you were okay," said Patryk, tripping over his own words. "I made breakfast, but um..." he looked down at the mess he made. "I'll clean it up and make some more!" He bent down and started picking up the pancakes one at a time.

Tord paused for a while before speaking in a monotone voice. "Don't bother. I'm not hungry."

"When was the last time you had anything to eat?" asked Paul.

Tord shrugged. "I've been too busy to eat."

"Busy with what?"

"That's classified. There are too many people around."

"Too many people? But it's just the three of us!" Paul looked around. "I think."

"Just stay back. I'll tell you when everything is safe." Tord quietly closed the door and returned to his business.

"I think he needs some help," Patryk said as he held the plate of dirty pancakes in his hands.

"But he told us not to bother him," Paul countered, "and I really don't want to get on his bad side. You know what happens to people who do."

"But he's not okay! You saw him!" Patryk grabbed on to Paul's shirt and looked him in the eye. "He's too important to let him suffer like that."

"All right, I guess we can check up on him." Paul shook Patryk off of him and turned to the door. Patryk held his hand as the cautiously intruded despite their boss's orders. They were greeted by a glass bottle shattering on the wall across from them. Tord was infuriated. His pale face turned red and he faced the direction he threw the bottle -- away from them. He didn't seem to notice their arrival.

"I'm not your friend either, Tom!" he yelled.

Patryk pulled Paul out of the room and slammed the door behind them. They hugged out of fear and hoped they could protect each other. This problem was serious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is keeping Tord awake all night.

Tord sat at his large, crowded desk, prepared work but did nothing but. He stared at the globe next to him and spun it around a few times. They were all a single color with a single label -- his empire. What was the point of working if he already reached the top? No, it didn't work like that. He had to keep everything under control and that meant filing papers for his subordinates to work with. They had to keep peace somehow.

_"This'll never work, you commie."_

Tord leaned back in his office chair and moaned. There was that voice again. The voice that he always heard long after they parted ways. It kept him up all night and prevented him from working. Every time he tried to sleep, he was awoken.

_"How about you just die instead?"_

He wasn't going to lie; he had considered suicide. Back when he was still conquering the world everything was bright, but lately it took a lot of effort just to get something done. He could really use a personal secretary, but Paul and Patryk, the only people he could trust to do it right, refused to separate, and it was a one-person job.

_"You're pathetic, you know that?"_

Tord sat up. In the corner of the room he saw a blue hoodie. The figure in the blue hoodie that haunted him every night. He pulled a revolver from underneath his desk despite knowing he was unable to harm it; he felt safer with it in his hands.

"I'm not pathetic." Tord help up the loaded gun and aimed it.

_"I hate you."_

"I don't care what you think, Tom! I hate you too!" Tord shot a full round in that direction. It still stood for a moment before disappearing, its last words lingering:

_"You're useless."_

Tord sat down and looked at the clock. Three in the morning. It always came at that time, and it always kept him on guard for the next 24 hours. But now it was gone and he could focus on what he was supposed to be focusing on -- his work. It was difficult, however; right next to his paperwork tab on his computer was his hentai tab. Normally that would distract him but even his favorite things didn't interest him nowadays. At this point all he wanted was some sleep. It had been days since that happened. He wanted to go home, but leaving the room always gave him the feeling he was being watched, most likely by someone who was a threat to him. Or maybe it was Tom. No, Tom wasn't following him outside. He was already there. Always. Filling him with hatred, regret, all sorts of things.

Tord felt himself dozing off. He was glad to get some kind of sleep, as staying awake this long wasn't healthy, but his dreams always prevented him from sleeping for long. They almost always involved the people he betrayed, the people he stepped on, the people he killed... and the hoodies.

Tord awoke in a cold sweat. It was nine AM and he was covered in a large, warm blanket. On his desk was a plate of biscuits and gravy, still warm. A moment later there was a small tap on the door and Paul and Patryk walked in.

"Good morning," said Patryk. "Are you okay?"

Tord stared at the food rather than making eye contact with either of them. "Did you do this?"

Paul nodded. "Just doing our duty to make sure everything is okay."

_"Yeah right. They're just trying to suck up to you. They don't care."_

Tord grumbled as he picked up the fork and stared at the food some more.

"Um... are you doing all right?" Patryk asked. "We keep hearing you get angry and yell at things that aren't there, and, well... we're really worried."

"I'm fine, really. Don't worry about me. Just go and leave me and Tom alone."

The two exited the room as per instruction, but were now more worried than ever. "Tom?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tord faces his fear.

Tord got the energy to at least clean himself up and wear something presentable when he was told someone was visiting the next day. He still looked exhausted, but at least he was able to sleep a little before meeting the mystery person. Hopefully it wouldn't be a waste of time. According to Paul it was incredibly important, but what did that mean? Another resistance group trying to fight for power? That happened too often to require an urgent meeting. And so he sat at the desk of a meeting room waiting for someone to enter, eyes closed, trying to ignore the voice in his head.

"Hello?"

Tord's eyes shot open. There was the voice, but louder. He looked around the room for the blue hooded-figure, completely ignoring the person who came in.

"Straight in front of you."

Tord just then noticed that someone had entered the room and was standing in front of the desk. He was silenced by the man; he was the last person he expected. Could he say for sure this was Tom? He looked nothing like the man who haunted him every night. That was most likely because he was not wearing his blue hoodie, but instead a dark, formal vest and checkered tie. His other distinguishing figure, the black holes that passed for eyes, was covered by an electronic visor sort of thing. But it was still Tom. The voice, while a bit lower, was still Tom's.

"Hello Tom," Tord whispered. He watched Tom with caution, waiting for him to say something cruel to confirm his suspicions.

"Hello Tord."

"Use my proper title."

Tom sighed. "Whatever floats your boat. Hello, _Red Leader_."

"Why are you here?" Tord stared at him, every muscle in his body tense. It was painful having a real conversation after a long period of abuse.

"Your assistants invited me. They said you were having problems involving me."

Tord stared at him with dead eyes. "Yeah, I am. That's why you should leave."

Tom stared at him for a few moments before speaking. "What's wrong?"

Tord crossed his arms on the table and hid his face in it so he didn't have to respond.

"I didn't come here for nothing. I came because--"

"--because you wanted to see me suffer firsthand."

"What? No. I don't want to see you suffer at all."

Tord jumped up and stared directly at Tom. Tears were swelling at his eyes. "Then why are you always criticizing me on everything that I do?!"

Tom staggered back. "Huh? I haven't talked to you in years. I don't hate you like I used to."

Tord slammed his hands on the desk. "That doesn't change the fact that I hear your voice every day telling me I'm not important and that I should kill myself!"

"That's not me. I wouldn't say that." Tom came up to Tord and eased him back into his seat, patting and rubbing his back in a comforting way. He sat on the table next to Tord and stroked his hair as he spoke.

"I'm not exaggerating when I say you're the most important person in the world. It's a miracle that all this happened, and without you our civilization would literally turn to chaos."

"Why should I believe you? Every day I hear your voice and it's telling me nothing but lies. I've learned not to trust you."

Tord buried his face in his arms, and Tom spent several minutes staring at him. This was not the same person he knew many years ago, nor was he the one the saw on the news. He looked sick. He was sick.

"Tord, you need to see a doctor."

Tord looked up to glare at him. "I told you not to call me that."

"I don't care. This is serious."

"I'm not going to listen to anything you say and you know it."

Tom sighed. "I really don't want to see you hurt yourself. I know we had our rivalries and nearly killed each other, but that was a long time ago. I don't have any deathwish towards you anymore. Honestly, if you're capable of conquering the world there's nothing I can say that would put you down."

Tord just huffed in response. He stared into space for a couple minutes while Tom sat awkwardly next to him, unsure what to do.

"Hey Tom," said Tord, not looking away from whatever he was staring at. "Where's your blue hoodie?"

Tom looked down at his outfit like he forgot what he was wearing. "Oh, right. I left it at home. You gotta wear your best when you meet the Leader of the World, right?"

"I guess so." Tord shrugged. "It's just that you're always wearing your blue hoodie when you talk to me."

"But I'm not, so that means I'm not imaginary, right?"

They sat in silence for another moment. Tord looked incredibly troubled. Eventually, he looked over to Tom.

"Do you really think I'm ill?"

Tom nodded. "I know a mental illness when I see one. I was talking to your assistants and they said the same thing. They just wanted me to come in to confirm it."

Tord stood up and walked to the door. He was visibly tired of this session. Tom followed his cue.

"Thanks for meeting with me," Tom said. "It was good to see you again. Remember the next time you hear my voice by itself it's not actually me."

The two shook hands, and Tord pulled Tom in for a last-minute hug.

"Thanks for not hating me as much as I hate myself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the end of the story. This chapter was a bit rushed because I lost the latter half and had to rewrite it. Hope you all enjoyed.


End file.
